


Come What May

by girl_next_door_writes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Moulin Rouge AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:22:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25688764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girl_next_door_writes/pseuds/girl_next_door_writes
Summary: A young writer escapes from the life his father had planned out for him and falls in with a rather eccentric crowd of ‘artists’.  Being swept up in the excitement of his new surroundings he finds something he had always longed for but had not expected to find in the infamous club scene.
Relationships: sam winchester x reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 1





	1. 1: Falling

There was a boy. That’s how these stories begin, right? With our hero? Sam Winchester would never have claimed to be such but without him, this story would not be possible. Another person, another place, the events which were about to unfold may have ended very differently for all, but I am getting ahead of myself. We must start from the beginning, and in that beginning, there was a boy.   
Our wide-eyed protagonist, whose entire worldly belongings were currently crammed into a holdall or on his person, made his way down the grimy, ramshackle cobbled streets from the train station. The lure of the city had been calling to him for the last few years, distracting him from his studies, pulling him away from his life plan. Sam Winchester was supposedly destined to become a lawyer, to join his father’s firm, but there was a restlessness within him that made it impossible to be content in that life. Ever since childhood, whenever he had the opportunity to wander the stacks of the libraries, he could be found engulfed in the words of poets and playwrights, of myths and legends, tales of love and valor. In his heart, there was a need to create, to invent, to write.   
The day before, he had packed his things, informed his father he was leaving to pursue his dreams, and caught the next train he could afford with the limited cash he had in his pocket. Not the greatest start. He could have planned things better, found lodgings, secured funds, but there was a freedom in the spontaneity of his actions.  
And that is where we find him, making his way through a dark alley and into the less than desirable part of the city. This was a place people disappeared, reinvented themselves, were lost to various vices. Sam was never one for alcohol or drugs. No, his vice was a little different. Sam Winchester was addicted to the idea of love, of one great all-consuming love that would burn for the ages. The love sang about in ballads, the love that men waged wars for. That was a vice far more dangerous than any drug he could find on the murky streets he wandered down.   
A sign caught his eye, it advertised a room to rent and it appeared to be a reasonable price. With hope in his heart, he made his way over to the dilapidated building looking every inch the tourist about to be swindled.   
The landlady showed Sam up several flights of increasingly rickety, wooden stairs until they reached an attic room that was far from the luxury of his previous life. The room was bare except a small bed with a mattress which had definitely seen better days, a battered table with one leg at least an inch shorter than the other three, and a stool.  
“There’s a shared bathroom on the floor below. Rent is due at the end of the week.” And with that, the haggard woman shuffled off, the money Sam had willingly handed over clinking in her pocket.   
Placing his bag onto the bed, he opened it and pulled out his pride and joy, a third-hand typewriter with which he intended to write such an epic that would rival the Iliad and the Odyssey. Setting it carefully on the table, Sam retrieved an old Bible and slipped it under the deficient table leg to steady it. Taking a seat on the stool, he discovered it was far smaller than he had originally anticipated, and his long legs were bent so that his knees were practically under his chin. None of this seemed to deter him or tarnish the sheer joy he felt at finally being here, finally becoming the person he always wanted to be.   
Three hours later, Sam sat staring at the blank page. The words which had been clamoring in his head for the last few years had all seemingly deserted him rather than be trapped on paper, leaving him doubting himself. Perhaps this had all been a foolish endeavor. Perhaps he should return home with his tail between his legs and beg his father’s forgiveness.   
A rhythmic thudding echoed around the room and it took Sam a moment to realise it wasn’t just in his head. Getting up from his cramped position, he stretched and made his way to his window, searching for the origin of the noise.  
Several voices from the floor below caught his attention and Sam found himself straining to hear them clearly.  
“That is just not gonna work. The words just don’t match the tune.”  
“It is the music which is at fault.”  
“It’s not the music, it’s your lyrics!”  
“I think maybe everybody should…”  
“No, Cas. You can’t let her say that about your music.”  
“Dean I…”  
“The music is no good.”  
“Becky, you can’t…”  
As the argument from the floor below appeared to escalate, Sam clambered down the fire escape to the floor below. It was no wonder that the noise had disturbed him, all the windows had been flung wide and it appeared as if the majority of the room was taken up with some sort of musical contraption he had never before seen the like of.   
“The slopes are vibrant with the reverberation of melody and are perfectly adequate to sum up the emotion. There is nothing at all wrong with my lyrics.” A blonde woman was screeching at a pensive looking dark-haired gentleman.   
“It doesn’t fit with the melody!” Another man yelled back. “Cas, play the tune again.” The pensive looking man sat down at what appeared to be a keyboard and began to play. It was simple, pretty, in total contrast to the lyrics.   
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear…” In unison, everyone in the room turned to look at Sam with varying degrees of interest. “Well, instead of ‘the slopes are vibrant with the reverberation of melody’, have you tried…” he cleared his throat and sang the tune he had just heard played as best he could remember. “The hills are alive with the sound of music.”  
There was total silence from the ensemble and Sam feared for a moment he had committed some sort of social faux pas.   
“The hills are alive...?” The dark-haired man murmured almost to himself.  
“With the sound of music. I love it.” A blond man appeared from behind a curtain and made his way over to Sam, extending his hand and pulling him in through the window to join them. “I’m Gabriel. Over there is Cas, this is Dean, this is Becky, and you are..?”  
“Sam. I’m Sam.” He smiled nervously.   
“Sam, you got any more lyrics in you?” Gabe asked with a grin. “Cas, play the next bit.”  
After several minutes of collaboration between Cas and Sam, Becky stormed out, throwing a script at Gabriel and declaring that they would never get the production up and running without her.   
“Well, Sam, welcome to the team. You are now officially our head writer, no pressure.” Dean smirked, opening a bottle of whiskey and pouring them all a glass.   
The alcohol flowed freely as the troupe worked together, ideas steaming forth, mingling, evolving, dissipating into the ether. As the sky turned from dusk into the rich darkness of night Gabriel declared that they simply must go and see their star.   
“If there is any hope of our production making it to the stage then we need someone who is much better at convincing men to part with their money.” He grinned, tossing a suit towards Sam and picking up a top hat thoughtfully.   
“And for that I need a suit?” Sam asked through his haze of intoxication.  
“If we are to get near her, we need to look the part.” Dean patted his shoulder and headed off to his own room to get dressed.   
Thirty minutes later and Sam was beginning to feel as if he had fallen down a rabbit hole. Clutching the brim of the hat now precariously balanced on his head, his eyes were wide as saucers, taking in each and every detail of the courtyard in which he and his new friends found themselves. A throng of men, similarly dressed, swarmed the area. Testosterone seemingly hanging in the air, each one overly eager for the doors to open, desperate for the best seat in the house for the impending show. Through the sea of suits Sam caught glimpses of things that made him wonder if he had perhaps already drank too much.   
“Did that guy have a monkey in a waistcoat on a leash?” He asked, almost to himself. Sam didn’t have time to dwell on the incredible sights as a loud voice silenced the crowd.   
“Gentlemen,” the gruff voice boomed, his single word bouncing off every wall as the anticipation reached boiling point. Standing on a small balcony above the elaborately carved doors, he smirked, knowing exactly why they were there and already seeing the cash flowing into his pockets. “Welcome to The Second Circle!”   
The doors creaked open, almost ominously, beckoning these men with a feral glint in their eyes to enter. A light mist seemed to spill from the darkness, a rhythmic thudding so deep it vibrated up through the soles of Sam’s feet. Perfume infused the air and as one the crowd undulated towards the portal to the most decadent nightclub in existence. This was a place where dreams came true, where the promise of possibility hung in the air and even the most hideous could find love, for a fee.   
Once through the doors, Sam was carried down a long corridor by the swarm of men, eager to get lost in this world of the night. He saw various hallways, lit dimly with flashes of opulence, numerous doors with small plaques undecipherable at this distance but tantalizing enough for him to wish to know more. The mysterious blue light directing their path reminded him of moths drawn to a flame and he wondered what exactly was in store.   
Feeling someone grab his arm, he turned his head, a flash of fear in his eyes which disappeared once he saw it was Gabriel. Sam had been so caught up in the aesthetic of the place he hadn’t even realised he had been parted from his companions.   
“This way,” Gabe yelled, dragging him into a sloping hallway where the rest of their group were waiting. “Tonight, gentlemen, we have a booth.” He beamed, leading the way along the plush red carpet.   
No longer surrounded by the crowd, Sam could get a better look as they seemed to descend further and further into the heart of the club. Every surface appeared smooth at first glance, but closer inspection showed intricate carvings which seemed to move out of the corner of his eye in an unnerving manner. Doors flanked by thick, red velvet drapes beckoned enticingly, the plaques now clearly showing names such as ‘The Enchanted Forest Room’, ‘The Sweet Torture Room’, ‘The Aquarium’.   
He could not say how long they had been walking for, all concept of time in this place seemed to warp and shift, but eventually Gabriel pulled back a curtain and ushered them onto a walkway. Along to his right, Sam saw private booths, each one dimly illuminated by that same eerie blue glow from the entrance. To his left… to his left was a scene so beyond his realms of life experience that he froze on the spot.   
This was so much more than a nightclub, more than a dance hall. This was a temple, although Sam could not say who the deity was being worshipped. The sheer raw energy rippling through the air as the crowd of people writhed and rolled to the low, incessant beat of the music. Smoke spun through the air, creating shapes and shadows, adding to the feeling of walking into a strange and sacred space. The look of pure ecstasy on the faces he could momentarily make out before they span back into the dance had a macabre quality, lending a sense of everything around him not being quite real.   
“I should definitely not drink absinthe,” he muttered as Dean pushed him into a seat, each of them piling into the small space and ordering a round of drinks from the scantily clad waitress who had appeared out of nowhere.   
A hush descended rather suddenly on the crowd as if the sound had been sucked from the room. The absence was then slowly filled with a susurration, all eyes turning upwards where the high ceiling appeared to be twinkling with stars. Following their gaze, Sam squinted into the darkness and it appeared, for a moment, that he was truly looking at the night sky as a cloud seemed to roll over the heavens.   
The clack of a spotlight sounded out like a gunshot, the ray of light illuminating what Sam could only describe as an ethereal goddess seemingly floating in the air. The world stilled, each moment stretching out into eternity as his mind etched every detail into his memory. This was the kind of ineffable creature the greatest writer and lyricists of history had attempted and failed to truly capture in their pages. Sam found himself shifting, moving closer as this angel slowly descended, staying just above the crowd, just out of reach.


	2. Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam takes his first steps into the murky world of The Second Level and discovers the muse he has always dreamt of, but is everything as it seems?

“Ten minutes to show time,” Crowley called down as he ascended the staircase to his balcony, keen to see the pitiful fools who were so eager to sell their very souls for a brief time with the beauties of the underworld. Every predilection was catered for here, every sordid fantasy ready to be fulfilled and the men of the city knew it, happy to throw their money at Crowley for the privilege.  
You leant forward in the candlelight to check your lipstick, girls jostling all around you as the nervous preshow energy danced through the room. It would be ten minutes before they hit the floor, searching for the biggest tips, for their regulars, but for you there were a few more blessed minutes of quiet. One of the many perks of being the shining star in Crowley’s glittering crown was making a grand entrance, which meant when the dressing rooms emptied you were alone. Those few minutes each night were precious. For those few minutes you could imagine you were exactly where you wanted to be, a world-famous actress who people came from all around to see perform. For those few minutes you were more than a performer in a bordello, transported into the life you truly longed for.  
“It’s time, dear.” Rowena’s voice brought you out of your thoughts. The Second Circle was a place where dreams were fulfilled. All dreams but yours. “Best get you on the wires. Crowley says there’s an important customer tonight, someone who could help transform this place, so go out there and put on the performance of your life.”  
It was funny really, anyone who visited The Second Circle were astounded by the sheer spectacle that Crowley worked incredibly hard to create, and yet behind the scenes, those who knew how the trick truly worked were left a little disappointed. As Benny pulled the rope that lifted the swing you were sitting on, you ascended to the high ceilings, above the smoke. Here, you could clearly see the mechanics of each illusion. The glass which cast reflections making the skyscape painted above appear infinite, the twinkling stars little more than jars filled with captured fireflies. The air vibrated with the thrumming bass notes of the music and you were incredibly aware of how easily you could fall from this height. If Benny’s grip slipped, if you leaned a little too far, that would be one ‘spectacle’ the club would find it difficult to come back from. Difficult, but not impossible.  
The clap of the spotlight rang through the hall, its light blinding you for a moment and it was as if you were the only person in existence. The whole world revolving around you as you began to sing. You had to hand it to your boss, he was a magician when it came to acoustics and as your voice filled the room, Benny slowly began to lower you into the pit of iniquity, taking care to keep you just out of reach from the clawing hands of the desperate men who knew they couldn’t afford your attention.  
Sam was on the edge of his seat, his eyes following herr every movement. Gabriel smiled to himself, recognising the look on his new friends face only too well. There was a reason she was Crowley’s star, her ability to make people fall in love with her bordered on mythical and it was a very strong-willed man who didn’t find himself falling at your feet.  
“That is who we are meeting. She’s the one you need to convince to take a chance on you, on us.” Gabe leaned into Sam, his voice only just audible above the haunting vocals of the angel spinning through the air so effortlessly.  
“She is…” Sam trailed off, words failing him. It then registered that he would have to actually converse with her and a primal panic set in. “What? I… I can’t actually talk to her! She is… and I am…” He gesticulated wildly, causing the waitress who was returning with their drinks to move wildly to avoid being hit. Her tray slipped and a glass of wine tipped over the man sitting in the booth next to them.  
Lucifer looked down at the wine splashed across his shirt and jacket with disdain, before turning slowly to glare at the group of misfits in the neighbouring booth. Before he could utter a word, Gabriel was on his feet, handkerchief in hand, desperately rubbing and patting the man’s chest in an attempt to rectify the situation and ensure they didn’t get thrown out. Realising he was now just spreading the wine over the scary looking man, he turned to grab the handkerchief poking out of Sam’s top pocket before returning to his apologies.  
You had by now landed, rather gracefully, on the raised stage in the centre of the floor where you had been met by Crowley. Surrounded by girls holding large feather fans, he helped you with your costume change and peeked out to make sure the Duke had arrived.  
“Okay, darling, I know I don’t need to tell you how important this is. Charm him.”  
“Which one is he?” You asked as you removed your skirt and replaced it with another. Crowley squinted through the feathers and frowned.  
“He’s the one Gabriel is waving his handkerchief at. Shit. I hope that idiot doesn’t scare him away.”  
Ducking down to peer between the feathers, you saw Gabriel pulling a handkerchief from a young man's breast pocket. He was not what you had imagined when Crowley had told you about the Duke, his hair longer than socially acceptable and a slight gangly awkwardness about him, but it was somehow endearing.  
“He’s rather attractive,” you mused, a soft smile playing on your lips.  
“Makes your job easier.” Crowley shrugged, as you left a smudged lipstick stain on his cheek.  
“Don’t worry. I will have him wrapped around my little finger before the night is through.”  
“That’s my girl.” He grinned, both of you standing up as the fans dropped. Raising his arms, he addressed the crowd. “The next dance is ladies’ choice, sorry gentlemen, you’ll just have to sit back until you’re asked to the floor.”  
Sam had been so distracted by Gabriel that he did not notice you approaching his table. Looking up he saw your arm outstretched, silently asking for his hand. A shudder of nerves shot through him and before he could register, he was shaking his head. He felt completely unworthy to even be in your presence, let alone actually dance with you.  
“It looks like he’s a little shy.” You pouted, turning to the crowd to help encourage him to his feet. The chant of ‘dance, dance, dance,’ emanated through the room and you turned back to Sam with an almost predatory smile on your lips. “If you like, I can take the lead.” The expression on your face was one of innocence but as Sam looked into your eyes, he saw anything but.  
“Ah, I see you’ve met my friend…” Gabe began, only for you to wave him off dismissively.  
“I have it in hand, Gabriel,” you assured as you grabbed Sam’s hand and dragged him towards the centre of the dance floor.  
The music seemed to surround you both, the rhythm vibrating through every bone in your bodies as the crowd appeared to move as one in a dance routine everyone but Sam instinctively knew. True to your word, he felt you take the lead, pressing up against him provocatively before spinning away and then back into his arms. The world seemed to undulate beneath his feet, causing him to stumble as you span. That feeling of everything being a little surreal was stronger than ever and if he took his eyes off you, he felt he might fall and never regain his footing. You were like a beacon, keeping him focussed, keeping him from being lost entirely. His mind created sonnet after sonnet with you as his muse. Verses he already knew he would never get down on paper appeared fully formed behind his eyes as he gazed into yours.  
“It’s so wonderful of you to take an interest in our little show,” you purred in his ear, the feeling of your breath against his skin causing him to close his eyes momentarily.  
“Hmmmm.” He managed to nod, the scent of your perfume intoxicating. Sam knew he needed to say more, be more articulate if he had any chance of impressing you. “I would love to be involved.”  
“Really?” He registered the brief flash of surprise on your face as you pulled back a little, but it was soon covered with the seductive smile that made his blood pump a little harder.  
“I mean, as long as you like what I do. I’m aware that there are many people you could ask to step in.” He stumbled over his words a little, trying to focus on speaking rather than your warm body pressed against his in such a tantalising way.  
“Like what you do? I’m sure you will be magnificent.” You purred, his innocence was rather sweet and this seduction was even easier than you had anticipated.  
“Maybe… maybe we could, could do it in private? A poetry reading?” There was a beat, as if the room stood still as his eyes met yours.  
“Oh.” A look of understanding washed over you as you pulled him close, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “I love a little poetry after supper. Meet me in the Red Room and I will be more than happy to share a little ‘poetry’.”  
Suddenly you let go of him, disappearing in the crowd as his eyes frantically searched for you. It felt as if a deep pit had opened up beneath his feet, the darkness of the room now engulfing him, the faces of the strangers around him causing the panic to rise in his chest. And then there was the spotlight. His gaze was drawn upwards as you once more ascended to the heavens, the goddess rising above this court of immorality. Sam’s eyes met yours as you sang out a final refrain and his heart felt light. Such pureness in a place as this, such beauty and perfection, he felt like a drowning man who was finally able to breathe when you looked his way. Somewhere deep in his soul he felt like you had saved him, the words flooded through him and the urge to grab a pen overwhelmed him. For you, he would write such poetry, such epics that would withstand the tests of time.  
Back in the dimly lit dressing rooms beneath the dancehall, Rowena bustled around you, helping remove one corset, replacing it with another. As she yanked the laces tight, you felt the now familiar sensation of a coughing fit bubbling up in your chest. Leaning over the dressing table, one hand gripping the edge so tight that your knuckles turned white, you scrabbled for a handkerchief. Each cough made your chest ache, your body shaking with the violence of the fit. Wiping your mouth, you ignored the scarlet stains on the crisp white material. Bunching the handkerchief up in your fist, Rowena pretended not to notice how frail you now appeared in the lamp light.  
“Darling! You were spectacular! You have the Duke eating out of the palm of your beautiful hand. Now to seal the deal.” Crowley breezed into the room, all smiles and joviality as things were going his way. He could see it now, a grand theatre, bringing you all up from the gutters to high society. Or at least higher than you were now.  
“She’s in no fit state, Fergus. The girl needs to rest.” Rowena frowned, not taking her eyes off you. She was worried, unsure how long you could continue on like this.  
“Nonsense. She’s a bloody professional. She’s not going to let a little bout of the vapours stop us getting the backing for our theatre.” Crowley brushed past her, shooting her a dark look before returning his smile to his star.  
“He’s right.” You straightened up, grabbing a silk robe with a soft feather trim. “This is our shot, I am not going to let it slip through our fingers.” Holding your hand out, Rowena reluctantly passed you a vail of some potion which glowed ominously.  
“That’s my girl.” Crowley grinned, wrapping his arm around your waist and hurrying you out of the room and towards your destiny.


	3. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A case of mistaken identity plunges Sam into a tornado of lies and half-truths where his life eerily mirrors his art. The love and happiness he had yearned for comes with strings which tangle him up, unaware of the potentially deadly consequences.

Sam knocked tentatively on the door before him, the golden plaque declaring this was The Red Room. A cascade of butterflies had taken over his stomach and the urge to run was building within him. What business did he have being alone in a room with someone as beautiful as you? This was madness. Closing his eyes, he screwed up his face, trying to find some courage, unaware that the door had opened, and you were watching him with bewildered amusement. 

“I’ve been expecting you.” The velvety smoothness of your voice did little to calm him and as his eyes met yours, he thought he might actually pass out. He felt you take his hand and guide him into the decadent room.

Red symbolized so many things. Danger, lust, love. Everywhere the rich textures begged to be touched, the velvet curtains, the silk sheets on the bed to his left, the tulle which created a screen which you had slipped behind. His feet seemed to sink into the plush carpet as he moved to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. A warm breeze caressed his skin and he removed his hat as he wandered to the small balcony which overlooked the courtyard. 

Gripping the brim of his hat tightly in front of his chest, Sam attempted to calm himself enough to be able to impress you. The trouble was he was incredibly aware of your movements behind the screen and suspected they involved the removal of items of clothing. 

“Do you like my room? Is it poetic enough for you?” He looked up as you emerged in little more than your underwear. His mouth grew dry and he simply nodded, moving his hat to rest a little lower to cover his embarrassment. 

His eyes followed as you glided over to a small table and picked up a bottle of what appeared to be champagne from an ice bucket. “Would you like a little supper?” Raising a perfectly arched eyebrow, you awaited his response, your lips trying to hold back a smile as the seconds of silence stretched out until his brain to mouth function kicked in.

“I think I’d rather just get it over with.” His words spilled out in a rush as he averted his gaze. Looking at you was a little like looking at the sun and it seemed each time he looked at you his brain melted. 

“Oh.” The surprise was evident in your tone. You prided yourself on being an enjoyable experience, not some chore. Regaining your composure, you placed the bottle back and gave him your best seductive smile. “Very well. Why don’t you join me on the bed?” Sitting back against the sumptuous sheets, you crossed your legs and prepared to ‘get it over with’.

“I prefer to do it standing.” Your eyes widened a little, he didn’t seem the type but then again it was always the quiet ones who had the most interesting kinks. As you began to get to your feet, he held out a hand to stop you. “You can lay down, it’s alright. I mean, sometimes, the whole… thing… it’s quite long.” He scrunched his nose and gripped his hat so tight his knuckles were beginning to turn white. Why could he not form actual sentences? “I want you to be comfortable. I want you to enjoy it. I know what I do is quite different, modern, a little odd?” 

“Right.” You were trying to keep the sexy temptress composure you had going but the way he was talking had you a little on edge, unsure quite what he was going to ask you to do. 

Straightening his posture, Sam took a deep breath. “Wise men… wise men say…” and then he turned to look at you, that was a mistake. “…they, they say…” The way your eyes roamed over him derailed his train of thought, he had no clue what these wise men would say right now. Turning his back to you, he scrunched his face up. “Come on, Sam. Get it together. They are all depending on you to seal the deal here.” He murmured to himself under his breath. 

Taking a steadying breath, he spun around. “Look into my eyes…” he began confidently only to see you now lay back on the bed, your arms resting above your head and all he could think about was how soft and inviting you looked, which killed this thought dead. Again, he turned away from you, dipping his head as he gave himself another pep talk. He was screwing this up and he needed to man up. You were just a girl, a woman, a goddess. Oh shit. 

“Is everything alright?” Your voice cut through his mind, leaving a warm sensation spreading through him and he wanted nothing more than to listen to your voice for all eternity.

“I’m a little nervous.” He confessed, turning to glance at you, relieved to find you once more sitting demurely on the end of the bed as you looked up at him. “It’s just sometimes… sometimes it takes a while for, you know, inspiration to come.” He looked at you a little helplessly and a wave of understanding washed over your face. 

“Oh.” Your lips fell into a soft pout and you got to your feet, closing the space between you with ease. “You need a little help?”

Sam shuddered as your hands ran down his chest, showing no sign of stopping. As your fingers reached his stomach, he was aware that he was moving backwards, unsure if that was due to your guidance or his own feet. Your palm grazed the increasingly large bulge in his trousers, and he gasped. “That inspiring enough?” you purred before shoving him. The back of his legs hit the bed and he fell backwards onto the silky sheets, bouncing gently on the mattress. Before he could register what was going on, you had straddled him, your fingers swiftly working at undoing his belt. 

“Make love to me,” you hummed in his ear, your warm breath on his neck made his brain fuzzy.

“Make love?” he murmured in confusion. Was this really happening? Was this the reason you had asked him here?

“You want to, don’t you? That’s why you’re here, can’t you feel the poetry?” Your hand slipped into his underwear and Sam jumped, pushing you off him and getting quickly to his feet. Poetry, that was why he was here. 

“Okay, erm, it’s a little bit funny, this… this feeling inside.” He began, buttoning his trousers before glancing over at you on the bed. “Is this the sort of thing you wanted? Is it okay?” The uncertainty in his voice made you realise how inexperienced this poor boy truly was.

“Yes. Mmmmm, don’t stop. Give me your naughty words.” Running your hands over your body, you let out a soft moan as he continued. 

Your reaction to his words was a little disconcerting. They had definitely never had this kind of effect before and Sam was a little at a loss at what to do with himself.

“My gift is my song…” His voice was strong, and you froze, watching him curiously, “…and this one’s for you.” As Sam turned, there was a softness to his features. The innocence in his eyes was something you had never seen before in any of the men who frequented the club and you just knew he was so very different from anyone in your life. 

Taking in the awestruck look on your face, Sam continued, the words flowing through him easily as everything was feeling for you spilled out. With each sentence, he felt more confident, each lyric seeming to cast a spell over you. A smile played on his lips as he turned away from you, making his way to the small balcony.

Scrabbling to your feet, you followed him, longing to hear more, hanging on his every word. Gone was the awkward boy from the dancefloor and in his place this tall, confident man with such a tenderness within him that you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling things you had long ago locked away. Not only would this man help you achieve your dreams, but he could pull you up out of this world and provide the life you had never dared imagine.

Looking out over the bright lights of the city as he continued his performance, he felt alive, truly alive and he had no doubt that was because of you. He felt you standing behind him, inches away, and turned with a boyish grin. Taking your hand in his, he brought it to his lips, ghosting them over your knuckles as he continued to woo you with his brilliant words. 

The sparkle in your eyes made him bold and as he finished his epic poem, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as he dipped you. A small giggle fell from your lips, a genuine reaction as the tip of his nose brushed yours. It was your job to make men believe you had fallen in love with them and tonight that was the easiest thing in the world to do.

“You are amazing,” you whispered as you gazed into his eyes, a little cross-eyed at the close proximity. “I have fallen completely in love with a young, handsome, talented duke.”

“Duke? I’m not a duke.” He chuckled, his smile falling as you pushed him away and looked at him with a frown. 

“Not a duke?”

“No, I’m a writer,” he said proudly, only for you to turn your back to him and pinch the bridge of your nose.

“No, no, no, no,” you muttered. This could not be happening. “Please tell me that you are not one of Gabriel’s protégé’s.”

“Actually, I…” Sam faltered. It had been going so well, you had said you had fallen in love with him and now it felt as if the rug had been pulled from beneath his feet.

“If you are a writer, then where is the duke?” You looked at him with such anguish that he wanted to cross over to you and pull you into his arms in an attempt to make everything better. 

Gabriel, Dean and Castiel had been eagerly awaiting news from their new friend as to whether the play was going to be going forward. Loitering in the corridor adjacent to The Red Room, they were startled to hear the voice of Crowley, he usually kept away from this area unless there was a particularly important client. 

“Ah, Duke, I am certain she will be awaiting your arrival. I am terribly sorry for the mix-up. Here we are, The Red Room.”

“The Red Room?” Gabe looked at Dean in a panic, this could not be good. 

“The courtyard, quickly. There’s a balcony.” Castiel hissed and before his companions could ask exactly how he knew this information he was sprinting towards the exit. 

As the door opened, you pushed Sam behind the screen in a panic. “Darling.” Crowley looked at you as he raised an eyebrow suspiciously, “the Duke has been waiting.”

“I am terribly sorry; I was under the impression you had received my invitation. Next time I shall deliver it in person,” you purred, noting how his eyes roamed over your body. The tip of his tongue ran over his lips and you couldn’t help but think that you had been a fool to believe for one moment a Duke could have been anything other than this brute of a man before you. “Please, let me make it up to you.”

“I am sure you can find a way to lessen the sting.” He took your hand and placed a searing kiss to your palm. “Duke Morningstar, happy to make your acquaintance. Your show this evening was spectacular.”

“My dear Duke, everything I do is spectacular.” You pulled him towards you, running your hands over his shoulders and indicating to Sam that he really should leave right now! 

“I am sure it is, my dear.” The Duke’s eyes flickered with danger and desire, his fingers digging into your hips as he held you close. 

Sam opened the door, prepared to sneak out, only to find a man standing there with his back to him as if on guard. Quickly he ducked back into the room and hid behind one of the drapes as you rolled your eyes in frustration, both of you concluding the only escape route available would be the balcony. 

Realizing there was no way for Sam to get across the room without being seen, you knew you had to do something drastic to cause a diversion. Cupping the Duke’s face, you began to recite what you could remember from Sam’s earlier ballad. Making men believe you were in love with them was easy and this one was no different. 

“That was… beautiful.” He said breathlessly as he gazed into your eyes. 

“It’s from our play. I saw you and suddenly the words all made sense to me. You are an inspiration.” Your performance deserved to win awards, Sam was frozen to the spot as he watched, his heart shattering into a million pieces. A strange feeling of guilt settled into your chest as you caught Sam’s expression from the corner of your eye and you knew you couldn’t go through with this, not tonight. “You should go. I am inspired to work on the play, you have inspired me. All my energy needs to be poured into this performance for you, then, on opening night, I will give myself to you. Just think of all the raw energy building up. Yes. You must go.” You ushered the Duke towards the door, his confusion apparent but the promise of what would come on opening night enough for him to go along with it. 

“Goodnight, my dear.” His smile was almost predatorial.

“Goodnight, dear Duke,” you purred, closing the door on him before spinning around and glaring at Sam. “What the hell! Do you know what could have happened if you had been caught?”

“You thought I was him,” he said softly, unable to hide his disappointment.

“The Duke will be funding this whole scheme. No Duke, no play,” you huffed, rubbing your temples as you absentmindedly wandered back over to him.

The door swung open again as the Duke returned, “I forgot my…” He trailed off, his eyes burning into Sam. “Who is this?”

“Oh, Duke, this is the writer. I called him right away, I had several notes and ideas I wanted to incorporate after our encounter.” You simpered but you could see a rage bubbling within the man. 

“You called and he just magically appeared?” He growled, his fists balling by his side. 

“I think we should take it from the top.” Gabriel stepped into the room and grinned, quickly moving to shake the Duke’s hand. “Hello, I am Gabriel, director, actor, artist. That is our writer, Sam. Lead actor, Dean…”

“How in god’s name…?” you hissed at Dean who had also appeared.

“Climbed up to the balcony. You may want to look into getting rid of the trellis,” he whispered, moving to pat Sam on the shoulder. 

You moved to the balcony and glanced over the side, eyes widening as you watched Castiel struggling to find his footing. Reaching out, you took his hand and pulled him in to join the throng. 

“And you are all involved with this ‘play’?” you heard the Duke asking warily. 

“Oh yes, it is going to be amazing, wonderful, splendiferous.” Gabriel was assuring him.

“What is it about?” There was a pause as you each looked at each other. What was it about? 

“It’s a story about love. A great love that knows no bounds, that conquers all. It… it is about a mighty king and… and a courtesan who he falls in love with.” Sam ventured a little tentatively.

“So, he is the hero?” The Duke’s eyes lit up at the thought.

“No, he is the villain. You see, the courtesan meets and falls in love with a poor, penniless musician. When they met, he had been dressed like a nobleman and she had fallen for him. He hadn’t meant to trick her, but he was dressed that way because… because…” Sam faltered

“Because there was a grand costume party. It was a case of mistaken identity.” Dean took up the story, almost seamlessly. “But the courtesan isn’t free to love who she wants to; she is bound to the mighty king in order to save her kingdom.”

“Yes. Yes, and the musician, he has… he has a magic guitar!” Sam added.

“Oh, that would be me! I am the magic guitar and I only speak the truth!” Gabriel enthused, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You are beautiful,” he said to you with an air of sincerity before turning to Crowley who was standing in the doorway looking perplexed, “You are ugly.” Gabe frowned. “And you…” he turned to the duke and as one you all rushed to place a hand over his mouth.

“Oh, I see. The magic guitar gives the game away. I like it.” The Duke grinned, nodding his head. 

“He likes it,” you said pointedly to Crowley who took that as his cue to take over. 

“And wait until you see the returns on your investment. Let us step into my office and discuss terms.” Your boss smiled, already seeing the cash stacking up.

Everybody had left then, congratulating themselves on securing the investment and creating a solid base for the play. You could still hear Gabriel’s occasional whoop of joy or declaration that ‘Sam is a genius’ being carried across the night air.

It was cooler now as you stood looking out from the balcony. The events of the evening had been unusual to say the least, but you were now one step closer to getting out of this life, one step closer to becoming a real actress. The duke could make that happen, he could set you free. Your mind flitted back to the austere looking man and all thoughts of freedom dissolved like mist. He would never set you free, you could see that in his eyes. You would simply trade one cage for another. 

A light flickered in a window of the boarding house across the street from the club. The carefree shapes of Gabriel and his companions continuing their celebrations brought a smile to your face, how you longed to be more like them, to embrace the poverty and live simply to create. The small voice in the back of your head piped up, ‘a girl has got to eat. You follow that dream and you will end up on the street’. Pulling your robe around you a little tighter, you frowned. What had happened to you? When did you trade everything for this life? When you arrived in this city you had such hope, so many dreams.

Your thoughts now turned to Sam. The way he stood, trying to appear smaller than he was, almost as if he were apologizing for taking up space. The way he ran his fingers through his hair nervously as he failed to maintain your eye contact. The way you had felt safe in his arms, a genuine moment of happiness, before you realised he wasn’t the duke. 

This was a futile exercise. You needed to focus, banish those kaleidoscopic eyes from your thoughts and your heart. He was a distraction you could not afford. You did not have the luxury of love. 

Turning from the night sky, you sighed. It had been a nice fantasy, to believe that a man so genuine and kind, talented and warm could take you away from all this. Loving Sam was not practical, that was what you told yourself as you began to clear away the food laid out for supper. The problem is love is rarely practical.


	4. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has to know if there is any chance his feelings are reciprocated. Stealing across to your room he makes an impassioned plea for you to at least consider the possibility of love.

Sam looked around the room fondly at his new friends. Gabriel was standing on a table making a grand convoluted speech as Dean snored in a corner and Cas searched for a bottle of wine they hadn’t already emptied. They had somehow picked up a few other revelers on their way across the street and Sam took advantage of the noise and crowd to slip away, his thoughts still with you, back in that moment he had held you close and everything seemed possible.   
His feet took him through the gates of the courtyard and across to the trellis before he realised where he was headed. It seemed his heart had taken control, needing to know if that look in your eyes had been as real as it had felt. Perhaps you were just an amazing actress, but the small spark of hope in his chest needed confirmation one way or the other.   
Pouring yourself a liberal amount of the fine wine left on the table, you were so lost in your own thoughts that the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you made you jump. Spinning in the direction of the sound, your heart pounded with a rush of adrenaline. “Sam.” His name fell from your lips in a breathy whisper. In the dim candlelight he seemed taller, more confident than he had earlier and once again your body was drawn to his.  
“I’m sorry, I just…” he trailed off with a shy smile, his dimples appearing briefly as he tilted his head a little. The way you had said his name had the butterflies who had taken up residence in his stomach flitting up to his chest and he longed for you to say it again.   
“You just wanted to climb into a girl’s bedroom and scare her?” you teased, placing the bottle of wine down on the table as you surveyed him with a hint of a smile on your lips.  
“That wasn’t my intention.” His voice was low as he dipped his head, looking over at you almost through his eyelashes.   
“So, what was your intention?” Moving past him to check there was nobody else climbing up to join you, you could feel the warmth radiating from his body and it sent a thrill through your entire being. There was a heavy pause as you looked at each other, now so close you could almost feel his breath against your skin, eyes searching for even the smallest indication of reciprocated feelings.  
“I wanted to thank you.” His lips barely moved to form his words, “For… for helping me get the job.”  
“Oh, sure.” You blinked and pulled back; the spell seemingly broken. “You are incredibly talented; Gabriel is lucky to have found you. We all are. If that was all…”  
“Wait.” He reached out, his hand brushing yours. “Before, when you… when we…” he trailed off, nervously running his fingers through his hair, “You said you loved me and… well… was that..?”  
“An act? Yes.” The lie fell effortlessly from your lips and you saw his shoulders slump as his head dipped.  
“Right. It’s just, it felt real and…”  
“And that is why Gabriel wants me to be in his show, because of my acting skills. I am paid to make men believe what they want to believe. For some, they like to believe I enjoy what they do to me, for others they want to believe I love them.”  
“I see.” Sam nodded to himself, his brow furrowed slightly as he let the wave of disappointment wash over him. “Foolish of me really, to think someone as amazing as you could ever fall in love with someone like me.”  
“Sam.” You frowned, reaching up and tenderly caressing his cheek before you could stop yourself, “I can’t fall in love with anyone. This isn’t about who you are. It’s about who I am.”  
“You can’t fall in love?” he asked incredulously, his eyes widening as if you had just told him you had murdered half of the city.  
“It’s a luxury I can’t afford in my line of work.” Your thumb caressed his cheek absentmindedly as you felt yourself getting a little lost in his eyes.  
“But… a life without love? That’s - that’s just terrible.” It was incomprehensible to him that anyone could live without love, especially anyone who was touching him with such tenderness as you were now.  
“No, a life on the streets, scrambling to make ends meet, unable to afford food, that’s terrible.” You pulled away, moving further into the room, turning your back on him.   
“No,” he said emphatically, causing your eyebrows to raise as you looked at him over your shoulder. “Love is a necessity. Like breathing and… and…”  
“Food? Shelter?” You offered, leaning against the table with your arms folded, trying to desperately cling to reason. “To sacrifice one in order to secure the rest is logical.”  
“Love is not logical,” Sam scoffed; his arms flung wide as he tried to capture all the things he felt love was. “Love frees us of all the weight and pain of life. It’s an awakening in your soul. It’s…”  
“Please stop,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. His innocence was endearing, and you wished you could follow him down this beautiful way of thinking, but that was not how your life was. “I can tell this is a subject close to your heart but…”  
“All you need is love,” he declared earnestly, moving to stand in front of you.  
“That simply isn’t true. Love doesn’t put food in your stomach, doesn’t keep you safe at night.” Without even looking up, you could feel him closing the distance between you and you quickly moved to the other side of the table, using it as a barrier between you.  
“But it does, it can.” Sam insisted, placing his palms on the table, and leaning down to try and catch your eye.   
“Love is a game, Sam, nothing more.” There was a coldness in your voice he hadn’t expected, but as your eyes met he could see pain and he wanted nothing more than to save you from any amount of suffering, to give you all the happiness you deserved.  
“How can you say that? How can you really believe that? The best and most beautiful things in the world are felt with the heart, you can’t deny that.” He saw a slight weakening of your resolve as you thought of all the songs, art works, moments you thought of as beautiful and how you had indeed felt their beauty in your heart, and then the mask was back in place.   
“You are sweet, Sam, but you don’t know enough about life to see sweeping statements like that simply aren’t true.” You knew you were being patronizing, that just because his life experiences differed from yours didn’t make them any less valid, but you needed to put an end to this conversation. Moving over to the window, you pulled back the drapes, a silent indication for him to leave the way he had come.   
“What if I were to tell you that I love you?” His words hung heavy in the air. Sam couldn’t believe he had been brave enough to just come out with it and you couldn’t believe how his words felt as if they had wrapped around you, keeping you warm and safe and taking you away from the reality of your life for a brief moment.   
“Sam…” you sighed, scrunching your face a little as you tried to control the pace of your foolish heart. “You don’t know me to love me.”  
“Then give me one night. Just one.” The look on his face reminded you of an eager puppy dog and you couldn’t help your smile.  
“You can’t afford me for one night,” you teased, your breath hitching a little as he closed the space between you. Leaning back against the window frame, you looked up at him as he lightly ran his fingers through your hair.  
“One night getting to know each other, then either you will find I am right about this or I will find you are. Isn’t that worth finding out?” His voice, little more than a whisper, carried so much promise, so much potential for happiness, but that small voice in the back of your head told you this was all too good to be true.  
“I already know I’m right, there is no incentive for me to give in.” Your words held a boldness you didn’t feel in that moment, trapped between wanting him to kiss you and fear of what you might feel if he did.  
“If you are so sure you’re right then what harm could it do? Please, don’t leave me always wondering in this lovelorn limbo.”   
“Lovelorn limbo?” You laughed, your face lighting up in a way that made Sam’s heart race. He liked being responsible for that carefree smile. “Do you ever stop with the poetic license?”  
“Not when I have my muse right in front of me. Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove: O no, it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken;”  
“That’s Shakespeare.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes, unaware that your hands had come to rest on his hips, keeping him close to you.  
“Well, he has a way with words and I thought he might be able to convince you where I seem to be struggling.” Sam’s eyes searched yours, confident that you were slowly coming round but not wanting to push you too hard.  
“I can’t love, Sam.” The sadness in your eyes was in such contrast to the soft smile on your lips and he wondered what had happened to you that you could believe such a thing. “I have seen the real world and it is so far from the vision you have. Love is a liability; it makes you act like a fool and your heart ends up shot full of holes that never truly heal.”  
“Just one night,” he hummed, leaning in closer, his warm breath fanning across your face.  
“You will end up resenting me,” you offered rather weakly, your grip on his hips tightening a little.  
“No, I won’t.” The tip of his nose brushed against yours.  
“I’ll end up drinking all the time to hide from the look of disappointment in your eyes.” You were now a little cross-eyed as you tried to maintain eye-contact with him, struggling to thread any kind of conviction into your tone.  
“I love you. We should be together.” His lips ghosted over yours and your eyes fluttered closed.  
“We can’t, Sam. It will end badly for both of us.” However true your warning may have been it was lost in the heat of the moment.   
“But we will face it together.” There was a low growl in his tone that sent a heat right to your core and you knew you could no longer resist.  
“One night.”  
“Just one night,” he assured, nuzzling your nose, a soft smile on his lips.  
“And then, in the morning, when I tell you that I was definitely right about us you will stop all this… this talk of love?” Your tongue darted out, wetting your lips as the anticipation grew to boiling point between you.  
“If you don’t feel this, if you honestly, truly believe you and me are not worth exploring, then I promise I will not talk to you about how deeply and profoundly I love you.” He cupped your face, gazing into your eyes as he tried to capture the moment forever in his memory.  
“Love is more than words, Sam.” You tilted your chin a little as you pulled his body flush with yours.  
“Then let me show you.”


	5. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the relationship between you and Sam grows it seems you are invincible, but as the reality of you being together begins to seep in can you honestly say that’s the case?

Duke Lucifer Morningstar sat opposite Crowley, holding his hat in his lap as his left leg bounced a little. There was no doubt in his mind that this would be a good investment, if what the shrewd man on the other side of the desk was saying was all correct. In fact, the way he saw things, he could make quite a profit, and not just monetarily. 

“I will need certain assurances.” Lucifer’s eyes never left Crowley’s, causing the latter to feel a little uneasy. 

“Of course. As our major investor I would expect nothing less.” Crowley was used to being in charge and he could feel the dynamic in the room shifting, the struggle for power ebbing and flowing. No matter who entered his domain, politican’s, celebrities, princes, Crowley was always the most powerful in the room, the one pulling the strings, and yet as he sat on his dark leather throne behind his large dark wooden desk in his own personally styled office, he felt that was no longer the case.

“First of all, my little songbird.” His eyes remained unblinking and Crowley wondered how he managed it, surely that wasn’t natural. “She is mine and mine alone. There will be no more ‘private performances’ for anyone other than me, is that clear?”

“I am sure she will be more than happy to comply with your wishes.” Crowley smiled, silently cursing as he watched his highest earned benched. The Second Circle gave off the impression of being opulent and ethereal, but in reality, it was a money pit that drained Crowley’s coffers daily. This investment, this deal, was desperately needed, and he couldn’t help feel Lucifer knew that.

“I’m not a jealous man, Crowley. I just don’t like other people touching my things.” There was a hint of a snarl and Crowley noted the way Lucifer’s hands balled into fists at the thought of someone else touching you. There was no doubt this man had a violent streak and for the first time your boss worried about your safety. Would he be trading your well-being for his financial stability? Was he making a deal with the devil himself?

“Understandable,” he murmured, his eyes still fixed on Lucifer’s clenched fists.

“I will also need to hold the deeds to the club.” The Duke’s voice was smooth as honey, he knew exactly what he wanted, and he always got his way.

“W-what?” That caught Crowley’s attention, his eyebrows raising as he looked at the Duke.

“The deeds, Crowley. Consider it collateral. If this little venture doesn’t return my investment, in all ways, then I have the club. It’s simple really. As long as you haven’t lied about the figures and the girl is mine alone, you will have nothing to worry about.” The sly smile on Lucifer’s lips told Crowley he had been caught, there was no way out and his opponent was far more dangerous than he had originally anticipated. 

“It’s a deal.” He nodded, resigned to the fact that they had to pull this off or everything would be lost.

One night. You had promised him one night. That had turned into several nights, most mornings and more than a handful of afternoons, and you could not have been happier. You would have given Sam Winchester every second of every day if you could, he had so quickly become the centre of your entire universe and to see the world through his eyes was intoxicating. 

As you lay on the bed, tangled in the sheet, your fingers tracing intricate patterns over his bare chest, you realised you had never felt more at peace. “You should be writing,” you teased, as he wrapped his arm around you a little tighter, rolling you on top of him.

“I am. I am soaking in everything my beautiful muse has to give and in return I will write you such words.” His fingers ran up and down your back as he grinned up at you, practically glowing with happiness.

“Words for the play?” You raised an eyebrow, knowing Gabriel would be complaining that you were stealing all of Sam’s time if he didn’t actually get a few more pages done.

“Words you can share and words just for you. Words which are only ours. Words that will still be standing at the end of time, just like my love for you.” Leaning up, he placed a soft kiss to your lips, chuckling as you pulled away.

“Then write the play. We have the rest of our lives for words that last forever.” You smiled down at him, fingers playing with the ends of his hair.

“The rest of our lives?” he teased. Although he professed his love to you pretty much every five minutes he had yet to hear those words from you. There were hints, and he could definitely feel it. He knew how you felt, even if you guarded those words carefully.

“Shut up.” You giggled, scrunching your nose a little with embarrassment. 

“No. I like the sound of that,” he said softly, leaning up and nuzzling your nose, his eyes catching yours.

“I love you, Sam Winchester,” you whispered, your lips barely moving. Holding your breath, you waited for the world to implode, for the inevitable disaster that would follow saying, and actually meaning, those words. 

“I love you too.” Sam captured your lips in a soft, tender kiss and the world continued to spin, although your world most certainly revolved around this incredible, sweet, talented, caring, beautiful man beneath you. 

It was surprisingly easy to find excuses to avoid the Duke and spend time with Sam over the coming weeks. In fact, there were times when you had insisted Sam join you and the Duke on the rare occasion you couldn’t get out of it. 

“You are such an inspiration. I wouldn’t want to risk not getting an idea down.” You had said innocently, and Lucifer found himself unable to deny you. It was as if you had bewitched him and the build-up to opening night would just make his devouring you all the sweeter. He could only imagine how pent up you were with no sexual outlet. 

“She really is exquisite,” Lucifer murmured as he sat on the picnic blanket watching you picking flowers.

“Yes, she is,” Sam agreed before he could stop himself. Realising his mistake, he gave the Duke a sheepish smile, “You are a very lucky man.”

“Yes. I am,” Lucifer said pointedly. He wasn’t stupid, he knew other men desired you, that was one of the reasons he wanted you. His eyes moved from you to Sam, who was now sat scribbling in his notebook. “Have you finished it yet? The script? It seems you two are busy at it night and day.”

“It’s almost there.” Sam’s cheeks flushed a little and he concentrated furiously on his notebook, images of you laying beneath him a few hours ago running through his mind. 

“Then she deserves a night off. My dear, I would like you to join me for supper, tonight.” There was something in his tone that indicated this was not up for debate, it was an order. 

“Absolutely, that would be wonderful, but perhaps we should head back now so Sam and I can work on things. That way I won’t be worrying about it tonight.” Slowly running your fingertips down Lucifer’s lapels, you tried to shake off the unease, to put on a perfect performance. 

“Wear something easily removed,” Lucifer purred in your ear, his hand sliding low on your back.

“Yes, sir.” You slipped your hand into his, preventing it from continuing its path, and began to lead him away as Sam packed up the picnic. 

Laid on Sam’s bed, you watched him sitting on the windowsill, staring at the blank page in his notebook. There had been tension between you since the picnic and you had been kicking yourself. Of course this would never work. 

“I have to do this, Sam. This is my job.” You sighed, closing your eyes, and falling back against the pillows. 

“I know.” His response sounded so clipped, so unlike him, and he glanced over at you immediately feeling guilty. “I know you have to go and have supper with him, it’s okay. I love you.” Slipping from his perch, he padded over to join you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head as you snuggled into his embrace. 

“You will hate me. Please don’t hate me, Sam,” you murmured against his chest, unable to bear the thought of hurting him in any way and yet knowing what you had to do.

“I could never hate you,” he hummed, holding you tighter as if you might disappear in a puff of smoke at any moment. “I’m going to write a song and put it in the show. A song that, whenever you sing it or hear it or whistle or hum it, then you’ll know. It’ll mean that we love each other, no matter what.”

“You will get jealous and you will end up hating me,” you sighed, a pit in your stomach forming, churning with unease and uncertainty.

“Never. How can I be jealous if I am the one you love? I am the one you want to be with, who you choose to be with. I have your love, that’s all I need,” Sam assured you, confident in his feelings for you and yours for him. “Have supper with him and then return to me. Let me reassure you that my love for you is unchanged.”

Shifting a little to look up at him, you gave him a small nod, caressing his cheek tenderly as you tried to recapture the feeling of hope and freedom you had felt in this very bed only this morning. You would dine with the Duke, but you would share Sam’s bed.

Unfortunately, the best laid plans often go astray. As you were preparing for your evening with the Duke you had another coughing fit, one that left several blood splattered handkerchiefs and brought on a fainting spell. Rowena insisted the doctor was called, that her own potions would do little at this point, and stayed by your side the entire night, worried you may not make it through.

Crowley dined with the Duke, not the evening Lucifer had been anticipating, explaining that you had become so enamoured with him that you wanted everything to be perfect, as if it were your wedding night. That thought appealed to Lucifer. He was in no way blind to the fact you were far from a virgin, but knowing you felt spending the night with him was something special, that stroked his ego just enough to grudgingly forgive your failure to show. 

All night, Sam waited, pacing his room. His gaze fell on the club and he felt the cold stab of jealousy deep in his heart. You were only supposed to dine with the Duke. He hadn’t prepared himself for the idea of anything more and your absence from his bed only plunged the knife in deeper. He loved you, but the reality of knowing you were with Lucifer felt like such a betrayal, and he felt he was betraying you by feeling jealous when he had promised he would not. Stewing in these feelings, he was unable to write, unable to sleep, and as soon as it was light enough, he made his way down the fire escape to talk his friends into an early rehearsal.

The dance hall of The Second Circle had been miraculously converted into a theatre, an impressive space where rehearsals were now being held. 

“Where were you?” Sam asked softly, trying to hide the hurt in his voice as he managed to get you alone in a secluded corner backstage. 

“I was sick. I told you,” you sighed, not wanting to go over this again. 

“You weren’t with him?” he asked, unable to look at you.

“No. I wasn’t. You promised me, Sam. You promised you wouldn’t be jealous.” Your shoulders slumped, that irritating voice in the back of your head saying it had been right all along, that this would not work.

“I’m sorry. I’m not. I missed you.” The apologetic look in his eyes was all you needed.

“I missed you too.” Tenderly caressing his cheek, you smiled as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you in closer. As your lips found his, you were unaware that you weren’t as alone as you first thought. 

Crowley’s eyes widened, then he glanced around to make sure nobody else was witnessing this. He waited until Sam had left before accosting you. 

“Are you out of your mind? Lucifer holds the deeds to The Second Circle and has demanded nobody touches you, and you are having a fling with the writer?” he hissed, trying to keep his voice down but incandescent with rage. “And don’t even try denying it. I saw the two of you.”

“It’s nothing, Crowley.”

“End it,” he said pointedly before turning on his heels to tackle whatever problem Gabriel and his crew had found for him today.

Opening night loomed large within the next 24 hours and as you finished your first full run through, everyone’s eyes fell on Lucifer, waiting for his verdict.

“I have a question.” He frowned, his eyes roaming over you before flitting over to your co-star, Dean. “Why would she choose him? The King is offering her everything, a lifetime of security, that is real love. The musician, he will satisfy his lust and then move on to the next one, leaving her with nothing. Why can’t she choose the King?”

“Because she doesn’t love you,” Sam exploded, throwing his arms wide in frustration. 

Everyone held their breath. The cast were well aware of your affair with Sam, knew you were his muse, but they also knew their fate was in Lucifer’s hands right now.

“I see.” The duke got to his feet, and for one moment you thought he was going to pull out a gun and shoot Sam right there. 

“My dear Duke, these writers do let their imaginations run away with themselves.” You gave him your most seductive smile, slinking your way towards him with an extra sway to your hips, pausing beside Sam and giving him a pointed look. “Sam, you should not talk to the Duke that way, he has every right to give his artistic opinion.”

“But- but- the whole spirit of the story…” Gabriel piped up, horrified that they may have to actually rewrite and give it a terrible ending. 

“It is not believable,” Lucifer snarled at him, and you placed your hand on his chest, gaining his attention. 

“It is just a silly play, Lucifer.” This was the first time he had heard you use his name and the way your lips formed each syllable gave him ideas of what he could do to that sinful mouth of yours. “Why don’t you and I go and have a little supper, and then we can let them know how you want it to end,” you purred, running your fingertips down his chest and over his stomach. 

“An excellent idea, my little songbird,” he hummed as you took his arm and led him from the hall. 

Dean grabbed Sam before he could go after you. “Let her do her job, and we will do ours,” he said softly.

“I think we all need a drink,” Gabriel sighed, knowing they were all in for a very long night.

You escorted the Duke through The Second Circle and to The Grand Suite. The chances of Crowley being so prepared that food might actually be in the room was too much to ask, and you knew exactly what kind of ‘supper’ you would need to put on to appease Lucifer. 

He was in no mood for small talk. The weeks of being near you but not having you had pushed him to breaking point and as soon as the door closed he was on you before you could react. Pressing your back against the wall, his lips caressed your neck as his hands roamed over your figure, tugging at your dress eagerly. 

“The ending?” you panted, wanting to get what you came for before he got what he wanted. 

“Let them have their silly ending,” he growled, grabbing your face and kissing you hungrily, no love or tenderness there, just the desire to consume you. 

Pushing his shoulders away, you gave him a smile, “Slow down, we have all night,” you purred, moving away from the wall and crossing the room, trying to gain a little control, but something felt very off. Standing by the window, you felt him standing behind you, his hands on your hips as his lips began trailing wet kisses over your shoulder and neck.

“You knew who she was when you met her.” Dean slid a bottle of beer across the table to Sam and sat back, glancing over the room. “Rule number one; never fall in love with a woman who sells herself. It always ends bad.”

“She loves me,” Sam said quietly, staring at the beer and trying not to think about you with that creep. 

“Love? It might start out that way, desire, passion, then suspicion, jealousy, anger, betrayal.” Dean shrugged nonchalantly. “Her ‘love’ is available for the highest bidder. I adore the girl but knowing what she is, how can there be trust there? Without trust, there can be no love. Falling in love with her will drive you insane. The jealousy will drive you mad.” His eyes met Sam’s and he knew he had hit the nail on the head. 

“I trust her, Dean.” Sam’s jaw tensed and he gripped the bottle so tight his knuckles began to turn pale. 

“Then prepare for her to break your heart,” Dean sighed, taking a swig of his beer, deeming Sam a hopeless case. He would be there to help him pick up the pieces, he liked the kid, but this was a lesson he needed to learn himself.

Sam stared at the bottle in his hand, his mind racing. Right now he knew you were with Lucifer. His eyes drinking in all of your beauty, his hands roaming over your body, his lips caressing your skin. The thought made his skin itch with rage, it was more than he could stand. Getting to his feet, he slammed the bottle down and stalked across the room. He couldn’t stand to be in the same building, knowing you were upstairs putting on a show for the Duke, knowing you would be on your knees, doing your best to please him. 

Sam stormed across the courtyard, his heart breaking more with each step. Whatever you were doing with the duke was probably nowhere near the depravity he conjured up in his mind, but he couldn’t stop himself. Dean was right, jealousy was tearing him apart. He loved you, but his belief in your feelings was swaying a little. The fear that perhaps the ‘king’ would win taking root in his chest.

Glancing up at The Second Circle, he caught a glimpse of a figure watching him from a window. He couldn’t make out who it was, and he didn’t care. Sam needed to get as far away from this place as he could. You had said it was just a job, but he couldn’t help wonder if the Duke had you making those little noises Sam had thought were only for his ears. The thought that maybe those soft sighs were just part of your act hit him hard, stabbing him in the heart and twisting the knife. Stumbling away, he headed back to his room, desperate to drown out these intrusive thoughts.

Your gaze flitted down towards the courtyard, a familiar figure there seemed to stop and look your way. As the Duke eased his hand up your thigh, hitching up your dress, you couldn’t block out how wrong this all felt. “No,” you whispered, the palm of your hands coming to rest on the cold windowpane. 

“No?” Lucifer couldn’t mask his surprise, but anger soon overrode that emotion. “No?” A low growl seemed to emanate from him as he followed your gaze, spotting Sam leaving the courtyard. “Oh. I see.” His warm breath on your ear made your skin crawl and you couldn’t suppress a shudder. “You need to be reminded who you belong to. You are my whore, and I will break you.”

He was strong and as he pushed you up against the window you tried to fight back, stamping your heel into his foot. This just angered him more and he threw your dress up over your hips, tearing at your underwear. Feeling his grip loosen for a moment, you heard the unmistakable sound of a belt being undone and you took the opportunity to turn, bringing your knee up and hitting your mark. 

As Lucifer doubled over in pain, you ran for the door, but he was quicker. You felt his arms wrap around your middle, lifting you from the floor as if you were nothing more than a rag doll, and tossing you onto the bed. You screamed. Panic gripped you as you desperately looked for an escape.

Lucifer grinned down at you like a cat toying with a mouse, he knew he had you. The tap on his shoulder surprised him, but not as much as the forceful punch to his nose when he turned his head. Benny made sure Lucifer was unconscious before he scooped you up and carried you from the room. Crowley had sent him to check on things and, as you sobbed into his shoulder, he was incredibly glad that he had.

The insistent knocking on his door brought Sam to his feet. Pushing his hair back in frustration, he frowned, grumbling to himself as he crossed to open it. His mood altered considerably when he saw you standing there, wrapped in an oversized jacket, tear tracks clear on your cheeks as your bottom lip quivered. All his previous feelings of jealousy were washed away as he pulled you to him, holding you close and murmuring gentle words of love. 

“I couldn’t do it.” You sobbed, his shirt growing damp against his chest as your tears flowed anew. 

“It’s okay,” Sam soothed, sending Benny a silent thank you as he pulled you further into the room.

“I- I was there and I saw you and I- I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t let him… And he knew. He saw you and he knew.” Clinging to his shirt, you looked up at him in panic. The Duke had scared you and now you feared for Sam.

“You are safe now. I won’t let him touch you. We are together and nothing can hurt us.” Cupping your face, Sam wiped away your tears with his thumbs and rested his forehead to yours.

“But the Duke….”

“He won’t find us. We will leave tonight. We will start a new life together, far away from here, far from The Second Circle. We will find jobs and build a home and a family.” Sam looked deep into your eyes, knowing he was asking you to give up your whole life here. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You nodded, his plan seemed the best option. “Yes. We will leave. I will go get some of my things and return to you.” Placing a tender kiss to his lips, you pulled back and gave him a small smile. “We will be together.”

You knew you had to be quick, that meant packing light and as you began to throw things haphazardly into your bag you didn’t hear the soft click of the door behind you as it opened and Crowley entered with Rowena. 

“What are you doing?” He sighed, rubbing his temples. The last hour had been spent assuring the Duke that everything was fine, that he would have his prize tomorrow night after the show opened and that Sam would be gone. He didn’t need any more dramatics, it was beginning to give him an ulcer. 

“I’m leaving,” you stated simply, not even looking up as you continued to pack.

“Leaving?” he scoffed. Crowley had seen this act with many of the girls, they never went through with it.

“Yes. Leaving.” Your words were emphatic and you pulled your bag onto your shoulder as Crowley moved to block the doorway.

“The show opens tomorrow, everyone is depending on you. The Duke…”

“All of my life you have made me believe I was only worth what someone would pay for me.” Your jaw was set, determination in your eyes. You were leaving The Second Circle and there was nothing and nobody who would stop you. 

“That’s not…” he tried to explain but you swiftly cut him off.

“Sam loves me, Crowley. He loves me and that… that is worth everything. That is worth more than this place, more than this show.” Shifting to push past him, Crowley caught you by surprise.

“You stupid girl.” He grabbed you by the arms, pushing you back into the room. “You can’t leave. The Duke will hunt Sam down and kill him if you leave,” he hissed, trying to convey the severity of the situation. This went beyond him losing his club, he was scared for you and Sam.

“Then we will get far away. Somewhere the Duke can never touch us. We can do it, Crowley. Sam and me, together we can do anything.” You prized his fingers off you and once more made to leave.

“You’re dying.” Rowena’s voice cut through the room and if felt as if those words had sucked out all the oxygen.

“What?” You turned to her, uncertain you had heard correctly.

“Y-you are dying. You and Sam may have days, weeks maybe, but then you will be leaving him alone and the Duke will find him, and he won’t make it quick.” Rowena moved a stool for you to sit on as your knees gave way, Crowley steadying you.

“I’m…” Looking from Crowley to Rowena, you knew this wasn’t a trick.

“You need to send the boy away,” Crowley said softly, turning away from you so you wouldn’t see how much this pained him.

“No. No, Sam will- he will fight for me I…” You shook your head, trying to comprehend how much your whole life had changed in a matter of moments.

“Then make him believe you don’t love him, that this infatuation is over. You have to hurt him to save him, to give him a chance at that life he dreams of.” Crowley sighed, placing one hand on your shoulder as he tenderly brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. “We are creatures of the underworld, darling,” he said softly, his words tinged with regret, “We don’t have the luxury of love.”


	6. Tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything seems bleak for our beloved hero but will things improve or will it all end in tragedy?

The sun rose, coating the courtyard in a warm glow that seemed in complete contrast to the events about to play out. The hope, the belief that true love could conquer all had vanished with the last shadows of the night and Crowley leaned against the balcony rail, his eyes following the lone figure stalking towards the gates. Swirling the amber liquid in his glass, he felt an unfamiliar pang of guilt in his chest. If anyone in this godforsaken place deserved to find happiness, deserved that fairytale ending, it was you. It had broken his heart to see the light go out within you. The pain ebbed away leaving you hollow as you realised you were powerless to fight this.

He could see your head held high, a confidence in your steps as you left the club and went to carry out a final act of true love. An act that would break you, but save Sam. This was the sacrifice of a dying woman. Wiping the back of his hand over his cheek, Crowley felt the dampness of a single tear. You were far stronger than any of them, and he knew he would never be able to look you in the eye again after this. 

Your red rimmed eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark glasses. They were the only thing that would give you away. Standing in front of Sam’s door, you took a deep breath, preparing for the performance of your life. This was for his own good. Inside your heart may be breaking, your mascara smudged, but you had to go on, had to break the boy to save him. Raising your hand, you knocked.

Sam had been waiting for you all night. His things were packed, ready for your great escape, all he needed was you. Pulling the door open, a smile of relief grew on his lips. A smile which quickly flattened when he noticed your lack of even a small bag. He had imagined your time had been taken up with packing, and yet there was no evidence of that. “I’m all ready. We can take a train north and then…”

“Sam.” There was a chill in your voice that caused him to pause, his back to you as his hand gripped the back of a chair. He knew. Part of him knew what you were about to say but if he could only stay in this moment before those words were uttered then perhaps he could believe things could still be perfect. Dean’s words came back to him, that he was a fool and should prepare for her to break his heart. 

“I think we have enough money for two tickets to get us across the border and…”

“I’m not coming with you, Sam.” The world tilted on its axis and Sam’s knees felt like they had turned to jelly. It took every ounce of strength in his body to turn and look at you. 

“What do you mean? Last night we- we made a plan. The Duke…”

“The Duke came to see me last night, as I was packing. He is offering me everything, Sam. Everything I could have ever dreamed of. No expense spared.” A smile played on your lips, although the joviality displayed there was conspicuously absent in your eyes.

“No. This isn’t you. This isn’t how you think.” He stepped forward, reaching for you, an invisible knife lodging in his chest as he saw you flinch away from his touch.

“Love is a game, Sam. I told you that the first night we met. I will, and always have, sacrificed this idea of ‘love’ for security. It is expendable.” There was a callousness to your tone that he had never heard before and your words sent him reeling. 

“Expendable? I- I love you. You think my feelings for you are expendable?” His voice was nothing more than a whisper, his eyes frantically searching your face for any sense that this was just a cruel joke, that you were about to say you were teasing and that your things were already waiting in a carriage. But there was nothing but a cold heartlessness in your demeanor. A cruel indifference towards him. 

“The difference between you and I is that you can leave anytime you choose. This is my home. These are my people.” You turned to leave, your heart aching to see him in such pain caused by your own hands. He looked as if you had just reached into his chest with your bare hand and ripped his heart out. 

“What happened? What did he do to you? Please, please just tell me the truth.” Sam begged, a spark of hope flickering as you stopped in the doorway, but you didn’t turn to look at him.

“The truth is that I choose him. I don’t love you, Sam. I never loved you. We needed you to write the play and now it is done, so are we. It is my job to make men believe what they want to. You wanted to believe this was some great love affair, it was nothing more than an act. Goodbye, Sam.” As you made your way down the uneven staircase the tears rolled down your cheeks. That was the hardest lie you had ever had to sell and the look on Sam’s face told you there was no question in his mind that you were telling the truth. 

Sam crumbled, his long legs unable to hold the weight of his heartbreak, folding beneath him as he hit the wooden floorboards hard. The air had been knocked clean out of him. It had all been a lie? Had everyone known? Was he the only one who hadn’t been in on this? His mind replayed each and every moment you had shared, each smile, each kiss, each confession of love, searching for some tell, for something that would prove it hadn’t been real. Sobs wracked his body, his shoulders convulsing as his bottom lip quivered. The full weight of emotion had yet to hit him, a blanket of numbness seemed to have enveloped him as he lay on the floor, staring into nothingness.

He couldn’t say how long he had laid there but suddenly anger replaced the confusion. Sam needed to see you, to look into your eyes as you told him you didn’t love him. Rushing out of his apartment, he raced across the street, hammering on the gates and screaming out your name. As if the heavens themselves felt his anguish, torrential rain began to beat down, soaking through Sam’s clothes as he cried out for you in desperation. Instead, he was met by Lucifer’s bodyguard who conveyed in no uncertain terms that his presence was unwanted, leaving Sam broken and bleeding in the gutter. 

“Come on.” A familiar voice met his ears, although Sam didn’t acknowledge it. He had slipped into a deep depression, so far removed from the world for now. Gabriel got his friend to his feet and, rather awkwardly due to the height difference, and led him back home. 

Once they were back inside Sam’s apartment, Gabriel began wrapping blankets around his shivering form. “Come on, things aren’t always as they seem,” he offered with a soft smile. Although he had heard the earlier exchange between Sam and yourself (the joys of living in a place made from materials practically as thin as cardboard) he couldn’t believe you had been telling the truth.

“Things are exactly as they seem.” Sam huffed, curling himself up on his bed. 

Gabriel sighed and put the kettle on the stove. “Sam, you may only see me as a drunken, vice-riddled creative genius whose friends are drug addicts and whores, but I know about art and love, if only because I long for it with every fiber of my being. I have seen her act over the years and I have seen the way she looks at you, even when you aren’t looking. She loves you, Sam. I know she loves you.”

“Go away, Gabriel,” Sam growled, “Leave me alone.”

“Sam…”

“GO AWAY!” Sam roared, causing his friend to jump. With a silent nod of his head, Gabe turned off the stove and left the apartment. 

Laying on the bed, still shivering, Sam tried to shut out Gabriel’s words, but the seed of doubt was there once again. He wasn’t the only one she had fooled into believing she loved him, everyone had believed what they had was real. There was only one way to be sure, and it wasn’t as if he could just walk right into the club anymore. He needed a plan to get close to her, needed to be certain she felt nothing for him. And so, Sam prepared to enter The Second Circle one last time.

The auditorium was filled with the highest of society and Lucifer sat in the front row, a supercilious smile on his lips. That writer was no longer around, and he was going to finally claim his prize. He owned this building, this performance and everyone here. Tonight was a triumph, elevating above every single aristocrat sitting around him. True, there seemed to be a sadness to your performance, but that just meant he had broken you, that you would acquiesce to his every demand, and boy did he have a list of demands in mind.

Lucifer spotted his faithful bodyguard out of the corner of his eye and frowned. Narrowing his eyes, he caught the gist of the message being mouthed to him. The writer was in the building. He felt a rage bubbling within him and mouthed back a clear two-word instruction. Kill him.

You were waiting backstage for your next entrance when Crowley came busting over in a bit of a panic. “You told me he was gone! Why is he here?”

“Who?” you asked, knowing he meant Sam but praying you were wrong.

“Winchester! If the Duke catches him, he’ll be killed on the spot,” Crowley hissed.

“I sent him away, Crowley. I told him- I said it had all been a lie, that I never loved him. I don’t know what else I could have done to save him.” Your voices carried up to the rafters where Gabriel sat on a trapeze, waiting to be lowered to the stage. 

“She loves him! I knew she did. But the Duke!” He was in the middle of his epiphany when the ropes were pulled and he was raised high above the stage, far higher than he expected. From here he could see everything as it played out, but could stop nothing. 

Sam had sneaked into the theatre in a costume left hanging on the rack in Dean’s dressing room. As he pushed his way through the crowd he was aware of his friend frantically searching for his costume, knowing he needed to get on stage. Part of Sam felt guilty about that, but a bigger part of him needed to find you. 

Slipping along a gantry, he spotted you chewing on your lip nervously, waiting for the door in front of you to open so you could step back onto the stage. Glancing around, your eyes widened when you saw him standing there. 

“No. No, no, no. You can’t be here. Please, Sam, just leave,” you begged desperately. He needed to be safe. You needed him to live.

“Look me in the eye and tell me it meant nothing to you,” Sam said softly, gripping your wrist to prevent you running away. “Tell me. TELL ME!” he yelled as the doors flung open and revealed the pair of you standing there.

Lucifer’s right eye twitched. Not only was that infuriating maggot here, he was with HIS girl and HE WAS TOUCHING HER! The back of his neck began to turn a deep crimson as the rage within him built. 

“Ah!” Crowley looked at the two of you and went for a spot of improvisation. “Although you have changed your clothes and adopted a disguise, I am not fooled. It is the penniless musician, come to do… something.” He stalled, looking at you with concern. Surely even the crazy Duke wouldn’t just open fire on the stage. 

“I have come to pay my debt,” Sam announced, dragging you forward, not even flinching as you stumbled and fell to the ground. ‘“This woman is yours now.” His eyes met Lucifers as he tossed down a handful of money at you. “I have paid my whore.”

There was a gasp amongst the cast and Crowley had to stop himself from rushing over to you as he saw the tears cascading down your cheeks. 

Sam looked down at you with utter heartbreak and disgust. “I owe you nothing. And you are nothing to me. Thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love.” The auditorium was deathly silent as he made his way down the steps at the front of the stage and began the long walk up the central aisle to the exit. 

“It’s for the best, darling,” Crowley whispered to you as he helped you to your feet. “He will spend the rest of his life believing you didn’t love him, and he will live.”

You froze at those words. He was right, Sam would believe for the rest of his life that you had never loved him and that hurt so badly that your knees buckled. 

“WAIT!!!!” Gabriel yelled from high up in the rafters. “You’ve been my inspiration. Through the lies you were the truth. My world is a better place because of you.”

Sam stopped in his tracks, he remembered writing those words for you. The pair of you had been laying in his bed, wrapped up in each other and the bed sheet, murmuring soft words of love and he had told you that you were his inspiration. Despite the pretence you both had to keep up, behind the lies and the roles you each had to play the truth was that you loved each other deeply and his life was infinitely better for having you in it. You had confessed to him that those three little words did not come easy to you, and that he was the only person you had ever truly loved, even if you didn’t tell him that enough. It was a perfect memory and as the tears rolled down his cheeks he wished that those moments were true and that this awful mess had been the lie. 

“Never knew I could feel like this.” Your voice faltered slightly, hampered by your tears but still loud enough in the silence of the room to reach his ears. “It’s like I’ve never seen the sky before. Want to vanish inside your kiss. Every day, I’m loving you more and more.” Stepping closer to the front of the stage, your voice grew more confident despite your desperation. He was still here and as long as he was here you could fix this. “Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing? Come back to me and forgive everything!” You gasped for breath, feeling a coughing fit trying to rise within you. “Seasons may change, winter to spring…” your lip trembled as you stared at Sam’s back. “I love you, until the end of time.” Your voice was little more than a whispered confession and you hoped he knew how much it had taken for you to say those words. 

The whole auditorium waited with baited breath. Lucifer’s hands gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles turning white with the effort. Slowly, Sam turned back to the stage. “Come what may,” he sang softly before heading back to the stage, his speed increasing with each step as he just longed to pull you into his arms. 

Lucifer got to his feet to stop the boy, but in a rare act of bravery, Crowley picked up one of the large urns decorating the stage and threw it at the man. In what looked like a complete accident, the urn hit the Duke over the head and he crumpled to the floor as the rest of the actors continued on the play to a rousing standing ovation. 

As the action continued around them, you clung to Sam, his strong arms wrapped around you and holding you close as you both whispered apologies and declarations of love into each other’s ear. 

Unfortunately, dear reader, not all epic love stories have a happy ending. If that is what you were hoping for then please abandon the rest of this tale for there is nothing but sorrow from this point. At the beginning of our tale I told you that if this were a story of another person, another place, the events which were about to unfold may have ended very differently for all. Now we have reached the sad conclusion. 

As the curtain closes, we see a boy, every bit as hopeful and excited about his new life as the day we met him wandering the ramshackle streets. His fingers interlaced with those of a girl whose life has been completely, irrevocably altered by knowing him. They are surrounded by friends, by people who love them and share their happiness that even in the darkness it would appear love endures. Regrettably, there are powers even stronger than love.

Sam felt you tug at his hand and his smile faulted as you collapsed to the floor. Reacting quickly, he pulled you into his arms, cradling your weak form as someone yelled for a doctor. “Hey.” He smiled softly, trying to make light of the situation and not give in to the growing panic. “I know I’m incredibly talented but there’s no need to actually fall for me.”

“Sam.” You chuckle breathlessly before being overcome with a coughing fit. Then he sees it. The trickle of crimson fluid dripping from the corner of your mouth. 

“Don’t- don’t say anything. It’s been a big day and you’re tired and they are getting a doctor and it will be fine. You’ll be just fine. You and me. We’ll be fine.” The tears are already pricking at his eyes and he is trying so hard to be brave, to be the man you believe him to be and not the scared little boy who feels so lost in this moment. 

“I love you, Sam,” you manage to say as he tenderly caresses your face.

“I love you too. We are going to have such a life together. All those words you said we had time for…”

“I’m dying, Sam.” The crowd around you takes a step back, wanting to give the two of you some last moments of privacy. Tears are rolling down Crowley’s cheeks as he avoids eye contact with everyone. This was not how this was supposed to end.

“No. No, you’re…” he begins to insist, only for you to cut him off.

“I’m dying. Those words, our forever words, you need to write them. Tell our story, Sam. Tell our story and then, that way, I’ll always be with you.” Your voice is weak and he can feel your body grow heavy, the light seeming to drain from you.

An inhuman wail echoes off the walls as Sam crushes your lifeless body to his. You were his everything, how was he supposed to go on without your smile, your voice, your love? 

The Second Circle closed that night. Lucifer pulled the funding and Crowley was left destitute. The boarded up windows a stark reminder to Sam about all that he had lost. 

And then one day, for no particular reason, Sam sat down at his typewriter and began to write. He tried to capture the emotions, the experience down on paper but it was nothing more than a hollow approximation of the true experience. 

Sam sat back in his chair and glanced out of the window, his eyes falling on the dark blue gates of the building opposite. 

“I can’t believe you killed me off!” You gasp, looking up from the page you had been reading.

“Well, I could hardly write the truth, that the opening night went perfectly and Crowley slipped poison into the Dukes champagne. Can you imagine the public outcry? The theatre is now turning a handsome profit, people are gainfully employed, and you are a star.” Sam took the paper from your hand and returned it to the pile.

“I know, I know. Now put a cover over the typewriter and come to bed, Sam.” Leaning over, you placed a lingering kiss to his cheek and shot him a seductive wink and you headed to the bedroom. 

“I’ll be right there, Mrs Winchester.” Sam grinned. His fingers hesitated over the keys for a moment before he let out a contented sigh and carefully typed THE END.


End file.
